Change
by SkullszEyes
Summary: Jerome and Jeremiah leave the circus for the night.


"Come now, brother, smile for once," Jerome said, grinning at Jeremiah, their arms entwined as they strolled down the street of Gotham.

Jeremiah wrinkled his nose and fixed his glasses. "For what?"

"For finally escaping the circus," Jerome said, flailing his free hand into the air as he announced it to the street. There were a few people who looked, but Jerome didn't seem to care about the attention.

"Mother will drag us back once she finds out," Jeremiah said, looking away from Jerome's happy face that seemed thrilled by the idea.

"She won't even find us," Jerome said, digging into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. "Nor will she miss this."

Jeremiah frowned at the cash that Jerome decided to steal from their mother, before he asked Jeremiah if he wanted to go into the city for some fun. Of course he didn't know what Jerome had done until they were a few blocks away. He attempted to grab the cash and race back to the trailer before their mother could find out.

Except Jerome had shoved him against a light post and told him that wasn't a good idea. There was a switchblade in his hand pressed against Jeremiah's neck. He told Jeremiah that their mother was going out with another one of her flings and wouldn't be back until the morning, so they had all night to spend the money and go home before she returned.

Jeremiah thought this idea was stupid and their mother would eventually find out it was them that took her money. He shuddered at the abuse that would come, except Jerome, tilted his head and said he'll take the beating.

Jeremiah didn't believe this.

"We can make some friends while we're out here," Jerome said, tucking the cash into his pocket.

Jeremiah rolled his eyes. "Who'd want to be friends with you?"

"I'm handsome," Jerome said, "and I don't even need a mirror to know this when you're beside me."

Jeremiah looked away at this. They were identical, except Jerome was the eldest twin, a few minutes older, and more childish in nature. He tried the innocent act on many people, mostly their uncle until he started to beat him. Sometimes on their mother's flings to gain sympathy, but alcohol riding their systems changed that.

Jeremiah could still feel the pain in his temple from where their mother had slapped him the other night. She was drunk, and couldn't tell the difference between them. She always found herself hitting Jerome more than Jeremiah.

Jerome resented this, mocking Jeremiah whenever he could. _What a good son you are, the innocent one, if only mother knew you tried to set my bed on fire._

Jeremiah had rolled his eyes, telling Jerome he was dreaming when that happened. Except even with his open hostility on Jeremiah, Jerome still found ways to keep Jeremiah with him at all times. Even during chores around the circus, Jerome would skip his way toward Jeremiah and talk to him nonstop.

Jeremiah knew this was because Jerome couldn't handle the mental instability he suffered from their mother, and her constant flings. Jerome had told him that their mother was quite vocal when she wanted to be, and that the men liked to call her names.

Unfortunately, at a young age, Jerome told their mother about the nights she had men over, and in return she called him sick and disgusting. The guy she was with at the time asked Jerome if he liked to listen while he fucked their mother. Then they would beat him and throw him out of the trailer where Jeremiah would find him sobbing in the grass.

Jerome never truly cried much when he was younger, but those nights was when it got bad. He figured Jerome's emotions started to dampen, that he was becoming emotionally dead from the physical and psychological abuse.

By their sixteenth birthday, Jerome started to laugh a bit more whenever someone hurt themselves, or he hurt them to see their reaction. He did this mostly on Jeremiah, who started to resent him for the abuse and annoyance.

Jeremiah, however, couldn't live without Jerome either. Jerome wasn't the only one who got hit by their mother, and abused by her boyfriends. Jeremiah stayed away from her while Jerome liked to provoke them.

Now this was going too far, at least that's what he thinks. Jerome shouldn't have stolen their mother's money, nor dragged Jeremiah into it. He knew at the end of the day, they were going to get hit, and maybe thrown out.

This was really bad.

"I think we should return the money before mother finds out," Jeremiah said, trying to get Jerome's arm off of him.

Except Jerome tightened his grip, keeping his brother at his side. "Shut up. You just don't want her selling you to someone for a few nights."

Jeremiah slowly turned his head to look at Jerome. "Don't tell me she did that to you."

Jerome sneered. "I was joking."

He didn't want to know why that was a joke to Jerome.

"I'm serious."

"So am I," Jerome said, grinning. "We can finally have some fun, and that whore can leave us alone for a night. We finished our chores anyway, no one cares if we leave for a few hours. It's expected at our age anyway, they might think we picked up a hooker and took her to an apartment, or even a back alley. I don't really care which scenario it is."

"We're wasting mother's money on a hooker?" Jeremiah asked, in disbelief.

"Don't tell me you're never curious of the opposite sex, darling brother," Jerome teased, nudging him with his elbow.

Jeremiah frowned. "I never gave it any thought."

Jerome shrugged. "I haven't either. And no, we're not picking up a hooker, quit frowning, maybe next time we'll share one."

"I'm not sharing with you," Jeremiah said.

Jerome laughed. "Wow. You're more like mother than I thought."

Jeremiah gritted his teeth. He didn't like the comparison, it was annoying. He didn't even like that he looked exactly like Jerome, even though they were completely different from one another. Jerome always insisted they would always be the same in every way.

Jeremiah liked to ignore him.

"I'm not like mother," Jeremiah said, glaring at Jerome, and this time he broke Jerome's hold on his arm. They separated, and the feeling was good, he no longer had his brother leaning on him.

Jerome on the other hand scowled at Jeremiah, but kept his hands to himself, although he did step closer to him. There was a sort of dependency that Jerome suffered from, and Jeremiah was his clutch.

"Where are we going?" Jeremiah asked. They've been walking down the street for sometime since they left the circus and the sky was beginning to darken.

He thought maybe he'd be scared of the streets of Gotham, always hearing something bad would eventually happen. Except he wasn't scared, there was no fear trembling in his body, besides the anticipation of what their mother will say when she finds out that Jerome took the money. Of course, he knows for sure, Jerome will loop him into it and they'll both get hit.

"Somewhere fun," Jerome simply said in a flat tone, but his eyes were wide and amazed by the city lights.

"Can you give me a specific answer," Jeremiah asked, his annoyance gnawing his insides.

Jerome rolls his eyes, then he shoves Jeremiah against the wall in the dark of the street. There aren't many people around, but Jerome leans forward, and whenever Jerome likes to have dominance over Jeremiah, he pins him down like a butterfly and slowly rips the wings off.

Jeremiah is not a butterfly, he is not helpless, and he is not afraid of Jerome. So he stares hard into his brother's eyes who stare back, and just like that, the similarities between them are too obvious and Jeremiah is sick to his stomach at how identical they truly are.

Jerome however hasn't noticed and presses their foreheads together, closing his eyes, their breath mixing. "I want to have fun for once, Jer, can't you just shut up and have some fun with me?"

"I don't know what kind of fun we're going to have," Jeremiah whispers, watching his brother and feeling his body press against him.

Jeremiah is the youngest, he should be the one trying to get close to his older brother, to find some kind of comfort in this dark world. Except Jeremiah didn't have the same trauma as Jerome, he didn't suffer from the sick nights when their mother had sex with random men, nor did he get beat up until he couldn't think nor cry.

Jeremiah steadies his breathing. "You have something in mind…?"

Jerome smiles, turning his head, then he kisses Jeremiah on the side of his temple. "I do, my darling brother, we're going to have fun with people to—"

"Hey, get a fucking room!"

Jerome's body goes completely still, then he turns and looks at three men standing in the road. They're menacing looking in dark clothes with hair that rises and flares.

"Hey, they're twins," another says, sneering. "That's fucking gross."

"Carl, don't you have an incest thing going on?"

"Not of guys," he says, shoving the other in the shoulder, but his gaze goes back to Jeremiah and Jerome, a sort of disgust laced with lust lingers in his glassy eyes.

"Who knows, maybe you'll like these twins fucking each other." They start to laugh, and it seems to echo through the dark street.

Jerome sniffles, still leaned against Jeremiah. "They want us to fuck."

It's not the thing Jeremiah would have picked out in their sick comments, but it's there in his mind anyway.

"Please…"Jeremiah mutters, looking away from the three men and their heavy weapons, "I don't want to fuck you in front of them."

Jerome looks back at him sharply. "So you want to fuck me in private? You're such a sap."

Jeremiah frowns. "That's not what I meant."

Jerome nods and pushes himself away, "Yeah, yeah, it'll be weird if my younger brother fucked me before I fucked him."

"What the fuck, Jerome, that isn't what I meant."

Jerome waves and walks towards the three men, and Jeremiah, who realizes in all his guilt and regret for what he did throughout the years to Jerome in secret, to the lies he spewed to their mother, to the bed he set on fire. He can't help but not look away when Jerome is hit in the face with a metal bat, except a laugh escapes him, and he lunges toward one of the men, slamming his fists against his face, ripping the bat from his frail hand, before attacking the other men like a monster.

After the sounds faded into silence besides small groans that leaves the men's mouths. His brother saunters over to him with a gash in the side of his head, and a grin on his face as if he did something good. He's holding the bat still in his hand, dripping with blood.

"That was fun," Jerome says, passing the bat to Jeremiah who only stares at it. "Take it, you kinky piece of shit."

Jeremiah glowers at him. "You took it in the wrong way."

"For a smart ass," Jerome shoves him against the wall, "you really know how to fuck up a sentence."

"I didn't mean to say it like that," Jeremiah clarifies, except Jerome isn't listening as he grabs Jeremiah's hand and wraps it around the handle of the bat. He can feel slick blood already staining his fingers. "I thought we were going to spend the money, not beat people up."

Jerome looks him in the eyes. "You're finally on board. I knew it wouldn't take you long to agree with me, you're too fucking obvious. You like doing this shit as much as I do. Beating people up, stealing mommy's money and hoping she beats us both to a pulp."

"I don't want her to beat us," Jeremiah says, looking away from Jerome to inspect the bat. "Besides...if we don't spend anything, we can just give it back to her and she won't know."

"Nope," Jerome says, grabbing Jeremiah's arm and yanking him down the street, away from the three beaten men. "We're spending mommy's money, we're getting that beating, and we'll enjoy it at the same exact time. Do you know why?"

"No."

"Because," Jerome grips his arm tighter, "after this...we're going to kill her."

"After she beats us?"

Jerome looks at him again, and this time there's peculiarity in his eyes, like he sees something else in Jeremiah that finally exposed itself. "After she fucking beats us," Jerome echoes what Jeremiah said, "because we're at last going to be free of that fucking whore. I'm glad you're on board, because if I'm going to jail, you're coming along with me."

Jeremiah frowns, trying to pull his arm free. He wants to run from Jerome, grab the money, take it back to their mother, and possibly tell her that Jerome took it. Except all he can really think of is the three men getting beaten, his brother laughing in the dark, the excitement in Jeremiah's veins.

And all he says is, "When?"


End file.
